


Exhaustion

by padawanhilary, Telesilla



Series: Complicated [14]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-24
Updated: 2006-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padawanhilary/pseuds/padawanhilary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Helm's Deep shoot is doing it's best to break Viggo, so Sean does his best to put him back together again in spite of the distance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhaustion

Sean's tapping his heel with just a little nervousness as he dials. He tried to call the other day -- as he has done every few days since he left -- but there was no answer. And it isn't as though that actually concerns him...well, not too much. He does understand that Viggo's on a hellacious schedule, only there's a niggling little voice in the back of his head that wonders if the distance might turn into something of an issue, if Viggo's getting tired of living on phone calls, if, if, if.

_Bloody hell,_ he thinks as the phone continues to click, making the connections necessary to get his voice from England to New Zealand. _Get a fucking grip._

Viggo's been home for close to an hour, although he really hasn't been paying much attention to the clock. Dawn is happening outside his kitchen and he's sitting at the table staring at a bowl of soup he microwaved but is now too tired to eat.

He's even too tired to finish the glass of bourbon sitting on the table. All he wants it to sleep, but the fact is that he was in too much of a hurry to get home to change at the site and now he can't force himself to remove Aragorn's layers. _I can't keep doing this._

When the phone rings, he stares at it dully, trying to remember what he's supposed to do about it. About four rings in, he remembers and picks it up.

"Yeah?"

"Viggo." Sean's hardly able to conceal the relief in his voice, and then he feels faintly guilty for it; Viggo sounds like shit. "I...well. Are you all right? Can you talk now?"

"Sean," Viggo says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh crap, was I supposed to call you?"

"No, no," Sean says quickly, "or -- well, we'd talked about it, and then I rang up anyway, and you...well, obviously you're exhausted; you must not've heard the phone ringing."

"Might not have been here," Viggo says. "Sorry." He falls silent and then takes a drink. "I don't know what day it is and all I know of the time is that I'm sitting here drinking bourbon and the birds are singing outside."

Frowning, Sean reaches for his cigarettes and taps one out to light it distractedly. "I'm sorry, love," he murmurs. "I should let you go, then; you need to sleep. It's grueling, I know that. Orlando rang up the other morning to bitch a bit. Naturally he wanted to tell me how easy I've had it." He laughs, but there's not much mirth. Viggo could easily be thinking the same thing.

"Don't go," Viggo says quickly. "Please don't." He feels his breath catch in his throat, and tries to calm down. "Sean I need...."

"Okay," Sean soothes quickly, "okay, just...what do you need, Viggo? Tell me."

"I'm sitting at the kitchen table, quite possibly drunk," Viggo replies, not caring if he sounds pathetic. "I don't know how long I've been home and I haven't changed or had anything to eat." He takes another long drink, surprised when it leaves the glass empty. "I need," he begins, his voice quiet. "Please tell me what to do."

"All right." Sean takes another drag, sets the fag down and runs a hand through his hair. "Listen to me." He puts that tone into his voice that Viggo hears whenever Sean's telling him things like _strip_ or _get that plug in_ or _fuck yourself on me._ "Put the bourbon down. It'll fuck you up tonight, and you'll just be that much more worn out. All right? 'Yes, Sir.'"

"Huh?" Viggo says and then Sean's tone of voice kicks in and he pushes his drink aside. "Yes, Sir," he murmurs, and the formality that used to freak him out suddenly feels as comforting as an old, soft blanket. "Thank you...Sir."

"Good. I want you to get out of Aragorn's gear now. You're not Aragorn when you go home in the morning, you're Viggo. Take everything off. Put the phone on speaker if you need to; I want you to stay here with me."

"Yes, Sir," Viggo says, switching the phone over to speaker. He strips, the motion of taking off Aragorn's clothes so familiar that, even as tired as he is, he doesn't fumble. Everything falls to the floor in a sodden heap and he ignores it once it's off his body. _Thank God we don't work tomorrow._

Once naked, it seems natural to go to his knees, and he doesn't even spare a thought for how he must look, pale and grimy and naked, kneeling on his own kitchen floor. "Done, Sir. 'm on my knees."

That's impressive -- more than impressive, it steals Sean's breath for a second. "Good boy," he murmurs. "Set a pot on and get ready to make something decaf. Then get in the shower. Nice and hot. Leave the phone in the loo with you." He hopes he isn't making things too complicated, but Viggo needs to do all of these things to get situated.

Doing as he's told, Viggo feels himself coming out of the partial fugue state he was in. He sets up the kettle on low, and puts chamomile tea in the tea ball before heading into the bathroom, carrying the phone. "Thank you, Sir," he says again as he sets the phone on the sink and gets his shower running.

Sean is content to wait as Viggo showers. It'll be a damned expensive phone call, but he knows it'll be worth it in the end. He lights up another cigarette and then is surprised when he hears Viggo come back to the phone so quickly.

"Feels better," Viggo says and then quickly adds, "Sir." He hears the kettle whistling and carries the phone back into the kitchen. As he makes tea, he realizes that better isn't saying much, he still feels numb and confused.

"Good." Sean listens to Viggo puttering with the tea for a minute, then says, "When the tea's made, sit down and eat something. Whatever you feel like, but something. Something at least...like a sandwich or a good, big piece of fruit."

As the tea steeps, Viggo finds peanut butter in the cupboard and makes himself a peanut butter and jam sandwich. "Gonna be hard to talk here for a minute," he says. "Eating peanut butter, Sir." He suddenly wishes Sean were here and there was something he could eat from Sean's hand.

"That's fine." Sean can wait through that, too, and he decides he's going to follow suit. "I'll eat with you. Cheese, maybe, or an egg." He goes to the refrigerator to poke around inside.

The fantasy of being fed by Sean fades in favor of a familiar memory and for a moment Viggo feels as though he could turn around and see Sean digging through the fridge in search of a late night snack. In that moment, missing Sean is a physical thing; Viggo feels it in his chest. "Miss you, Sir," he mumbles around a mouth full of sandwich.

"God," Sean sighs, coming away with a block of cheese and an apple, and then he puts the rest of the cheese away again and shuts the refrigerator. "I miss you, too. So fucking much, Viggo."

"Keep telling myself that we're halfway through," Viggo says. "But this is killing me...it would be easier with you here, Sir." He winces a little at that, supposing that he's not helping much, but his filter seems to have gone missing and so he's saying everything that pops into his head. "Don't mean to whine, Sir."

"You're not; you're sorting your feelings out." Sean bites into the apple. "But I'm not there. I can't be there right now. So you'll just have to hang on, all right? You need a routine every night. I want to know you've ritualized just what we did today. I'll ring you a few times to do it with you. You need to re-establish yourself when you're done with Aragorn in the mornings."

"Come home, strip off, take a shower and eat something," Viggo says, wondering if he's missed anything. "Yes, Sir."

"Yes." Sean settles onto the sofa with a little groan. "If I don't ring up, you just keep me in mind, and I'll want to know if the routine is broken up."

"Yes Sir," Viggo says, and there's no denying that he feels better. Giving his drink a look, he shakes his head and gets up and dumps the remnants of the ice into the sink. "No more drinking at dawn, either, Sir."

"Good boy," Sean murmurs, pleased. "Very good." God, and now he wishes he were there; he wants so badly to grab Viggo and hug him hard. "I know this is difficult, but you can do it. I know you can. And then I'll want to see you as soon as we can manage it."

"God yes," Viggo says. "Even if I have to fly to England just to spend a few days with you Sir." Taking up the phone, he makes his way into the bedroom. "I'm gonna lie down, now," he murmurs. "Do you need to go, Sir?" He's not all that horny, but he finds himself hoping that Sean has time and wants Viggo to touch himself. _Just so I can pretend it's him._

Sean knows to read between the lines, and he smiles faintly. "No, I don't need to go. Are you asking me for something?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," Viggo says, feeling horribly guilty. "I should know better." The "sir" thing suddenly feels restrictive in a way it hasn't through the whole conversation, and Viggo knows there's an insight there if he weren't too tired to track it down.

"Viggo," Sean sighs, realizing he's come at this wrong. "I'm not trying to make you sorry. Just...lie down and listen to me, all right?" _Should've just told him what to do,_ he realizes.

"Yes, Sir," Viggo says and he almost apologizes again before he catches himself. "I love listening to you." He flips the phone back to speaker mode and sets it on the pillow next to his head.

"How do you feel right now?" Sean asks, dropping his voice just a bit. "Feel like hurting for me a bit?"

"Will it take my mind off my other aches?" Viggo asks. He looks down and rubs his thumb over the tattoo he got for Sean. Pain is still complicated for him, but he remembers that night and what it meant to both of them that he was willing to allow Sean to hurt him. "Yes, I'd like that. Sir."

"I want you to go to the dresser," Sean says carefully, hoping this goes over well and that the implications of this won't utterly disturb him. It was a risk, and a presumptuous one, and he hesitates before he adds, "and pull the drawer very nearly out. In the back left corner is a small box."

"Oh," Viggo says, turning and staring at the phone the way he'd stare at Sean if Sean were there. "You did that?" he asks as he heads toward the dresser. His fatigue is still nagging at him, but he's intrigued enough to combat it as he finds the box.

"Oh," he says again, after coming back to the bed and opening it to see a familiar looking pair of nipple clamps. "Thank you.

"Thank you...?" Sean prompts, voice just a bit cooler now.

"Huh?" Viggo says, looking at the phone with a puzzled expression on his face.

"'Thank you, Sir,'" Sean corrects. "I know you're not used to it, but that's the only freebie you get tonight." He's still trying to decide if they're going to use this formality again -- maybe, if it feels right at the time -- but for now, he's not going to let Viggo slide too much.

_Right there,_ Viggo thinks, _is why I hate the idea of formality. I can barely remember my own name at times and God I hate hate hate fucking up._ "Thank you, Sir," he says quietly. "I'm sorry, Sir."

Sean holds in a sigh. The contrition in Viggo's voice isn't something he was going for tonight, but they're already halfway there. "I know you can do this," he says gently, "and I know you'll feel better after. Sit down on the bed and look at the clips. You've seen me use them, so unscrew them a bit and then let me know they're ready."

Sean's confidence in him helps, and Viggo takes a deep breath and lets it go again, trying to send some of his tension with it. Although the technique hasn't been working all that well for him during the shoot, it works just fine now, and he turns his attention to the clamps.

After a moment spent fiddling with the tiny screws, he finally has them to the point where he thinks they'll work. "Ready, Sir."

"Good. Start with the right side." Sean shuts his eyes, trying to imagine it. "Pinch hard, then twist the nipple. You know what it takes to get the clamp to stay, so do that."

"Yes, Sir," Viggo murmurs, gasping a little as he pinches his nipple. It feels good, although not as good as it does when Sean plays with his nipples. He moans a little when he puts the clamp on, and then moans more as he adjusts it until he's sure it will stay for a while. "God," he says. "It's on, Sir."

"Good boy." The tone of voice, the breathless quality is enough to have Sean throbbing in his trousers. He reaches down and gives himself a squeeze. "Do the other, now."

Once the other nipple is clamped, Viggo can feel the weight of the chain between the clamps tugging at his nipples. "Done, Sir," he says breathless and hoarse.

"Good," Sean praises again, his own voice a bit strained. "Give the chain a tug, just one, and then start stroking yourself off."

"Yes Sir," Viggo says and then utters a harsh gasp as he tugs the chain. He keeps the pressure up as he begins to slowly work his cock. "Good," he murmurs. "So good...Sir."

Sean can't hold back any longer and starts stroking himself in earnest, kneading through his trousers and then finally holding the phone between his cheek and his shoulder to get them down properly.

"Even on the nights we can't speak," he reminds Viggo, voice a bit hoarse, "I want you to do this, all of this, just this way. Eat, undress, shower, put the clamps on and wank. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Viggo says, getting hard just thinking about doing this every night simply because Sean told him to. "Yours, Sir," he gets out before words become impossible.

"On those nights," Sean manages as his breath comes faster and harder, "you've permission to come. Only those nights, and only that way unless I instruct otherwise." He groans, as much for Viggo as for the fact that he can't hold it in anymore.

"Yes," Viggo moans. "Oh God...yes Sir." The "sir" is getting easier now; he's not really thinking about it as his hand moves faster on his cock. "Please...God, please...so close, Sir."

That sends a rush of heat to Sean's cock. "Yeah," he breathes, panting into the phone, "come with me, boy."

Waiting until he hears the familiar sounds of Sean coming isn't easy, but Viggo just manages. His own orgasm hits like a ton of bricks, and by the time it's over, he's sprawled back on the bed panting hard.

Sprawled out himself after his own tight, surprisingly strong orgasm, Sean sighs, then laughs softly. "Christ, Viggo," he murmurs. "You're going to kill me, even from way down there."

"I was thinking the same, Sir," Viggo says, his voice still a little shaky. "Thank you, Sir."

"You're welcome, boy." Sean makes a soft, slightly amused sound as he looks down at himself and then leans over for a tissue. "The scene's over, love," he adds. "No more 'sir' for tonight." He hesitates, then goes on, "I know that was tricky because we've never done it before, but I'm proud of you."

Wincing and gasping just a little, Viggo takes the clamps off. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice still soft and deferential. "It was hard but I figured out why I've resisted it." He grabs a shirt off the floor, cleans up a little and then lies back on the bed.

"Oh?" Sean asks, curious and a bit intrigued more in an intellectual way than anything else. He's still unsure it would work for them on a regular basis, but knowing what they're dealing with always helps.

"It's too easy to forget," Viggo admits, hating to have to explain this. "And so...too easy for me to fail, which, if you haven't noticed, I hate doing."

"I know," Sean says gently, phone pinned between shoulder and ear again as he's zipping himself up. "And I wasn't doing that to set you up for failure. I just needed to take you out of Aragorn for a while, and the only way to do it -- I thought, anyway -- was to get you a bit out of yourself."

"That makes sense," Viggo says. "And I appreciate it because it worked." He pauses, drawing a deep breath. "I wasn't really Aragorn, I was just...not all there, not me yet either. Thank you for bringing me back. This has been...rough."

"I know. I wish I could be there." And now Sean's being repetitive, but it's all true. "I s'pose it's too soon to be asking when you'll be in LA again? Are you heading straight there after the shoot ends?"

"That depends on where you are," Viggo says, yawning. "I could come to London first.

"Oh, that would be grand." Sean sighs and stretches, tired himself and hearing it in Viggo's voice. "We can work that all out later, though. You need to sleep. I do, too."

"Mmmm," Viggo hums. "Love you, Sean."

"I love you, too." Sean sighs, slouching a bit further down into his chair. "Sleep now. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Viggo says. "Night. Morning. Whatever." He knows he should hang up the phone, but he doesn't. Not yet.

"Goodnight, then." Sean is amused and touched by the hesitation although he knows it well enough. He rings off himself and pulls in a slow breath, then rubs his hand over his face and hauls himself out of his chair, bound for his own bed.

_-end-_


End file.
